


I've killed a million petty souls but I couldn't kill you

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: (the death is just the turning but it feels wise to tag it), Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Asexual Character, Blood Drinking, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Vampire Bites, Vampire Turning, Vampires, minor gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: Zolf can sense the quickening of the man's pulse from here, beating out a musical rhythm that the bard would be proud of creating with his voice. For all the nervous energy in its pace Wildelookscalm, lounging with a half-drunk glass of wine dangling from his elegant fingers.“Will I still be able to drink?” He murmurs, heart skipping a beat when Zolf moves a step closer.Zolf lifts one shoulder, lazy and smug. “In a sense.”
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 30
Kudos: 49





	I've killed a million petty souls but I couldn't kill you

**Author's Note:**

> It is probably entirely too late to be posting this but I am weak and won't have a lot of time to write until the weekend so here you can have some more vampire porn because you're all lovely enablers.
> 
> (Title from Slept So Long because I saw Queen of the Damned at a formative age and it will never leave me.)

Zolf can sense the quickening of the man's pulse from here, beating out a musical rhythm that the bard would be proud of creating with his voice. For all the nervous energy in its pace Wilde _looks_ calm, lounging with a half-drunk glass of wine dangling from his elegant fingers. 

“Will I still be able to drink?” He murmurs, heart skipping a beat when Zolf moves a step closer. 

Zolf lifts one shoulder, lazy and smug. “In a sense.”

This gets him a reaction, a quick flash of amused displeasure on Wilde’s face before he schools his expression once more.

“S'better than booze.” He offers. 

“ _Oh_.” Oscar grins. “Well then. Coming from a dwarf, that's _quite_ the sell.”

Zolf moves until he is a few feet away, giving Wilde the space to escape if he wants to. Some do, it’s happened to him before. It’s also happened that he’s not had the wherewithal to stop when someone changed their mind. Those have a habit of sticking with you, over the years. The childe is never quite right.

Wilde has insisted he’s ready. They’ve known each other, worked with each other, and other things besides long enough for Zolf to give him the benefit of the doubt and trust him to make that call.

“Why do you look more uncertain than me?” The man asks, smiling with only a hint of nerves.

Zolf spreads his hands wide. “It’s gotta be up to you.”

Wilde downs the rest of his drink and places it to one side, shrugging out of his jacket and setting it aside too. Zolf watches him smirk and then drop to his knees, bringing them to a level. His eyes fall closed at the slide of a hand along his jaw, lips parting to let out a gentle breath. One of his last.

“I’m in your hands.” He murmurs, eyes still closed. 

“You will be.”

One eye opens. “Was that innuendo? From Zolf Smith?”

“Figure it’s about time. Would hate for you to have the wrong idea about your sire.”

Wilde moans, very softly, his eyes going that pretty sort of dark they tend to turn when he’s overcome with desire. “Is that what I have to call you now?”

Zolf scoffs, thumb rubbing restless over the side of his face. “No. In fact—.”

“Can I anyway?”

With a sigh, Zolf leans in to kiss the affected pout of Oscar’s lips, pretending their pleased quirk doesn’t bring him happiness in turn. When they break apart, he rubs his thumb against the man’s kiss-slick lower lip. 

“You get one a year. Use it wisely.”

He holds a hand out, open-palmed, for the man to take. “C’mon. We can at least make this as enjoyable as possible for you.”

“And for you?” Oscar asks, using his support to stand once more.

Zolf grins, allowing his fangs to show. “It’ll be plenty enjoyable for me.”

Oscar is easy to deal with once he’s naked. A few well-placed kisses and a hand on his cock and the man is in his element, gasping and groaning and shuddering when Zolf tells him how _good_ he’s being.

“I think I might die prematurely.” He groans when Zolf lets him stray a little too close to the edge.

The sound of displeasure ripped from the man’s throat as he steps back makes Zolf grin, shifting to strip off the rest of his clothing and settle up against the head of the bed. He’s not a messy eater, but these sheets will be ruined before the end of the night. He can’t help but anticipate that moment, once Oscar has turned… a halo of blood around their bodies, marking the moment Oscar became his forever…

“Mm, I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Zolf palms himself with one hand and beckons with the other, twirling his finger when Oscar looks set to lay prone between his legs. He pouts, eyeing up the passage of Zolf’s hand, which engenders him no sympathy.

“Can’t bite you if you’re down there.”

Oscar settles down finally, back to Zolf’s chest, shivering so nicely when Zolf swipes the long fall of his hair to one side. He reaches down the length of the man’s torso to take him in hand again, eyes fixed on the thrum of blood under the too-thin skin of his throat.

He moves his wrist in quick, jerking motions and allows his lips to play over Oscar’s pulse.

“Once I start I won’t be able to stop.”  
  
Oscar laughs, high and bright, throbbing within his grip. “You think that I’ll complain?”

He grumbles, nipping just this side of hard enough to get blood blooming beneath Oscar’s skin. “Yes, I do. They always do.”

“ _Oh_ , now is hardly the time to try and make me jealous, Zolf.” Oscar chuckles, arching into him in such a pleasant way that it almost distracts him from the pulse of blood just under his lips. 

Zolf listens to his breath catch, watches the fluttering of his abdominal muscles and the tremble in his thighs and smiles. 

“I trust you.”

It makes his fangs _ache_ , so close to biting down but holding off until Oscar is distracted enough. The relief of explicit trust is immeasurable, lights up his brain with sensation and he twists his grip, rubbing over Oscar’s frenulum until the man is gasping, moaning, shouting his release—.

Zolf bites down, and blood fills his mouth.

Oscar jolts, momentarily giving into the instinctive reaction to pain, scrabbling at the arm Zolf has around his chest. His nails catch and irritate but little more, Zolf humming into the skin of his throat. 

He is _exquisite_. 

Oscar rattles off his name, hungry, hurt and aroused anew, hips arching off the bed. Zolf can't help but growl, sucking harder, drinking deeper, his own body responding to the feral bloodlust that Oscar's feeding inspires. 

Faintly, he wonders if this is what Oscar expected, upon finding out what Zolf is. That one day he’d be writhing, come cooling on his stomach, his blood flowing thick and fast into the mouth of a vampire, a creature that he would soon be himself.

It’s when he goes lax that Zolf smiles, feeling the approach of the cusp of change like a thundering steam train. He sucks, once, twice more and then tears his mouth away, bringing his wrist up to his fangs and tearing thoughtlessly into the skin there.

He shoves it over Oscar’s mouth, cooing soft encouragement in the man’s ear as he splutters, confused, weak and disgusted by the taste of iron on his tongue. He revels in the switch, the moment of realisation, Oscar biting down and groaning, sucking hard around teeth that are still blunt. Zolf’s skin feels like it’s on fire, his head swimming with the remnants of Oscar’s wine as he waits for the moment...

Oscar sighs, then pulls back with a shout, head falling onto Zolf’s shoulder and mouth wide open. Zolf stares with satisfaction at the lengthening of Oscar’s canines into dangerous points, grinning when the man runs a tongue over them and then snarls, diving back to his wrist and beginning to drink again. The pinpricks of fangs are so familiar to Zolf now as to be barely worthy of note, sinking into his flesh as an afterthought. The mess he made of his wrist is more than enough to get Wilde the necessary blood for now.

He waits until he feels his skin starting to heal and Oscar’s body return to and exceed its human warmth before he pulls away, leaving Oscar whining and fretful and _hungry_ in so many different ways.

With a scrabbling eagerness Oscar turns around, kneeling across his lap and staring at him with utter astonishment.

“Gods, gods Zolf.” Oscar babbles, eyes wide, hands touching any part of him that they can reach. “Gods Zolf I can hear everything. _Feel_ everything.”

Zolf smiles, cupping the man’s cheek and fighting the urge to lick at the smears of blood on his chin. “It can be a lot.”

“Show me.” Oscar gasps, rutting against Zolf’s belly with a wild smile. “ _Show_ me. Let me feel you. I want... “ He trails off, grinding hard. “I want to ride you. Please. Zolf, please.”

He knows how single-minded a newly turned vampire can be. It is all too easy to give into Oscar, to the little searching kisses pressed all over the blood-stained expanse of his beard. It is less easy to deal with the force of his attentions and fumble around for something to actually grant his desire.

“Oscar.” He grumbles, leaning over to the bedside table and wishing his arms were just a little longer. Oscar turns his face back to suck hard at his lower lip and it’s oh so very simple to forget what they’re set so off-kilter for…

“ _Please._ ” Oscar whines, setting a feverish grip around Zolf’s cock and making him rear back with a laugh.

“Get the oil, your reach is better.”

There’s something amusing about watching newly made vampires deal with the reality of their place in the world. That’s no less true now, observing quietly as Oscar reaches out for the drawer handle and tugs sharply, only to come away with the entire thing in his hand, the remains of table collapsing under its own weight.

Oscar stares, mute with surprise… and then shrugs, reaching for the glass bottle of oil and throwing the rest away. 

“I’ve had that cabinet for longer than you’ve been alive.” He says, more to complain for the sheer sake of it than out of any actual concern;

Oscar unstoppers the bottle and drips oil over his digits, fire in his eyes as he looks back at Zolf. “Well, now you have me.”

It’s a worthy trade indeed, Zolf thinks, watching as Oscar reaches back and starts to open himself up, rougher than Zolf would ever dare to be. He’ll feel unstoppable at the moment, every inch of him thrumming with some previously-unknown power. By the time he shifts his weight and slicks Zolf up with a hungry growl, Zolf is entirely and completely enraptured.

Oscar is made for this, for the slow sink and slow take and desperate, spine-tingling joy of fucking. He laughs, and it melts into a trilling song, Zolf’s hands settling on his thighs and feeling the muscles flex with each rock of his hips. Zolf can do little but watch, staring up at the figure he’s just created, the only one he’s ever felt _this_ for.

Suddenly the looks and whispers and confusion of his peers across the centuries at his apparent disconnection from the carnal joy of creating a new childe make an odd sort of sense. This sort of overwhelming bond, the urge to hold on to Oscar and never let him go…

“ _Zolf._ ” Oscar gasps, leaning his forehead down against Zolf’s own and staring desperately at him with irises ringed in gold.

“I’ve got you.” Zolf replies, palming Oscar’s backside in one hand and bringing the other up to settle over the bruised mess of his throat. 

There’s no pulse there, not anymore. But he can feel the thrum of everlasting life through the man even so, the faint vibration of energy that powers every searching thrust. It feels like time slows down and speeds up all at once, lost as he is in the hungry pants of a man not yet used to lacking the need to breathe. 

“Will it always be so…” Oscar’s brow pinches, his hips grinding down over and over as Zolf nudges the perfect spot. “Overwhelming?”

Zolf makes a dissenting noise, tipping his chin up for a kiss that still tastes of his blood. “Not always. Not that I’m an expert.”

Oscar _beams_ , and it looks incredible on him, the bright shine of his fangs as they press into his reddened lips. “So you can’t say for sure, is that right?”

Zolf gives him an indulgent smile, reaching fingers between his cheeks to tease at his rim, feeling the stretch of his body. “Fair point.”

It doesn’t take much longer for him to shudder through his orgasm, and the feel of his body clamping down makes Zolf chase after, Oscar’s name echoing around the room in an exultant cry.

Once his body feels less like he’s floating, Zolf lifts his head to find Oscar glancing around at the sheets with a curiously amused expression. “Well. It does appear to be a good thing that this isn’t a regular practice for you Zolf. The cost of good sheets alone…”

Zolf tugs him down for a final kiss, enjoying the slightly unpracticed way that Oscar kisses with fangs. “Think I’d call it worth it.”

“Are _all_ vampires such hopeless romantics?” Oscar grins, nudging their noses and going all sleepily limp in his arms.

Tucking his chin against Oscar’s shoulder, Zolf wraps arms tight around the man’s body. “Well there’s one more now, at the very least.”


End file.
